


The Silent Distance

by TheStageManager



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25677871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStageManager/pseuds/TheStageManager
Summary: “Please,” Qui-Gon begs, as any loved one would. “Let him live. Please,” His words are soft and reverent as he pulls the boy up against his chest once more, threading his fingers through the boy’s short cropped hair. “Take me instead,”
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 79





	The Silent Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyber-erso (aoraki)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoraki/gifts).



When Obi-Wan Kenobi is struck down on Alcesti III, Qui-Gon Jinn feels as if a tapestry inside of him is slowly being unwound. It is as if someone had picked at a loose thread and pulled, carefully, gently, slowly, until the whole thing gave way, all at once.

The pair are returning to their ship after a relatively simple diplomatic mission when the sound rings out across the vast cityscape, echoing between the buildings—it is loud, like a firework, and Qui-Gon has to duck and cover his ears.

When he turns around, he sees his brave student, far too young and far too accepting, staring down at his chest. Blood seeps from an open wound—a clean hole right above his heart. He steps forward and sways violently, and smiles brilliantly, blood coating his teeth.

_He always smiles at this sort of things. Remember the fire beetles? He nearly died there, and he thought it was_ hilarious. _  
_

He opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out. He stumbles once more, confused, and a shaking hand gently reaches up to touch his throat.

_I only wanted to apologize, Master._ The words float through their shared Force bond and, even know, he feels their bond fraying and growing thin.

Qui-Gon lunges forward wrapping his arms around the young man as his legs give way.

Obi-Wan Kenobi lives just long enough to know that his Master has caught him in his arms.

This is not the way it was meant to be.

This is not how these things were supposed to happen.

The padawan is meant to outlive the master, not the other way around!

“Obi-Wan...” Qui-Gon whispers urgently, shaking the boy as he lowers his gangly body to the ground. “Obi-Wan!” he cries.

The teachings of the Order dictate that Qui-Gon must let his student go.

He shakes the boy once more, hard and vigorous. He cannot bear to look at his students face. He cannot meet Obi-Wan’s eyes, those bright blue eyes staring at some unseeable point, far, far away.

The Code forbids attachment.

He presses the boys head against his shoulder, a low moan slipping past his lips as he rocks the boy back and forth. “Please, please, please...” The desperation is mounting. He doesn’t know what he is pleading for. A blink? A breath? A cheeky quip?

It is a strange, surreal thing, losing a loved one. It is incomprehensible to thought who have never passed through it. Qui-Gon is no stranger to death, but this is different. This boy was _important._

Qui-Gon grits his teeth and snakes an arm under Obi-Wan’s legs, wrapping the other firmly around his boy’s shoulders. He will not let this boy die here. There must be something else he can do. Coruscant is close by, surely one of the healers can help him. Surely somebody can save him. The boy must not die! He will not allow it!

With a grunt, he hoists Obi-Wan into the air and stumbles. The last time he had carried the boy in such a manner, Obi-Wan had fallen asleep doing his homework, and Qui-Gon had carried him to bed and tucked him in.

That was years ago. Obi-Wan is a grown man now.

Was a grown man.

Is a child.

Was a child.

Somebody who can no longer grow.

He is heavier than Qui-Gon expects. He has grown so much, accomplished so much. Qui-Gon is _so proud of him._

Was so proud of him.

With every step, Obi-Wan’s side of their shared bond drifts further and further away. He is gone now. He is lost. Tears gather in the Master’s eyes and his hold gives way as his knees give out. He collapses into the dirt and bows his head as blood trickles sluggishly from the boy’s mouth.

Qui-Gon presses his forehead to Obi-Wan’s, tears falling freely onto Obi_Wan’s slackened face.

Jedi are not meant to be selfish.

It occurs to Qui-Gon, in one swift, uplifting rush of air, that with Obi-Wan dead, he will have to write his own mission reports. The thought is so strange, so absurd, that Qui-Gon cannot help but to laugh.

So, he laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs until the laughter turns painful, like knives in his chest, and his throat turns raw and his mouth tastes of copper.

With Obi-Wan dead, Qui-Gon will spend teatime alone. He will pour one glass of tea, and he will not set out any sugar, because only Obi-Wan liked sugar in his tea, and Obi-Wan is dead so what would be the point in setting out sugar?

Obi-Wan’s room would remain forever vacant. Qui-Gon would never again awaken to hear his padawan’s soft snoring, or find him meditating on the balcony in the soft hours of dawn. There would be no point in going to Dex’s anymore—greasy food is only fun when sharing it with a friend.

No more stories, no more shared meditations, no more folding laundry for an otherwise neat-and-tidy boy, no more scolding, no more banter, no more earth and companionship.

“Please,” Qui-Go begs, as any loved one would. “Let him live. Please,” His words are soft and reverent as he pulls the boy up against his chest one more, threading his fingers through the boy’s short cropped hair. “Take me instead,”

The galaxy is a cruel place. It deals in absolutes, in numbers, it does not bother with the morality of mortals. It does not understand the concepts of ‘just’ and ‘fair.’

However, every once in a while, a prayer is heard and the Force acquiesces.

Qui-Gon Jinn is not a good Jedi. He is selfish and attached. However, when he feels Obi-Wan Kenobi stir in his arms and breath in sharply, he does not care about the Code or the Order. He doesn’t care about the Force.

All he cares about is the boy in his arms who is living and breathing.

“Master?” Obi-Wan says softly. “Wh-what happened?”

Qui-Gon will not let the boy go. He holds him close and rocks him back and forth, chuckling quietly as he pressed his face against the boy’s hair, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes.

“Master?” Obi-Wan asks again, softly, reaching up and wrapping a hand around one of Qui-Gon’s.

“Oh padawan... I thought I had lost you...” the master says softly. He holds the boy close, holds him tight. “I thought I had lost you...”

-

The Force is kind and a few more precious years are spent together.

Qui-Gon watches, with no small amount of pride and Obi-Wan grows stronger and more independent with every passing day. He knows, with a bittersweet pang, that Obi-Wan is to be knighted soon—he is quickly outgrown his training. However, Qui-Gon is unsure if he is ready to let the boy go.

The Force takes them to Naboo, then Tatooine. They find a child and take him home.

“I will take Anakin Skywalker as my padawan learner,” he announces before the council.

When he turns to face Obi-Wan, he sees the boy’s eyes blown wide with horror, mouth agape. The expression only lasts for a moment. He is quick to school his feelings. He presses his mouth into a thin line and casts his eyes away.

However, Qui-Gon has seen all he needs to. He sees himself in that expression, remembers when his own face was twisted up in horror, remembers how the blaster bolt had pierced through Obi-Wan’s chest, had almost taken the boy away from him.

_Take me instead._

Qui-Gon is going to die.

He becomes acutely aware of this fact as he watches his padawan excuse himself from the room.

He wants to apologize to the boy, hopes to get he the chance to speak with him to tell him how _proud_ he is.

_(A chance to say goodbye.)_

But the time never comes. One things happen right after another: a domino effect of concurrent events that never allows Qui-Gon the time he needs to speak with his padawan.

A new chancellor is elected.

Naboo is attacked.

They rally the Gungans.

War is waged.

The Sith strikes.

_This is it._ Qui-Gon thinks as they drive the Sith deeper and deeper into the reactor room on Naboo. The Sith is frighteningly strong. At some point, he manages to knock Obi-Wan off of a catwalk and for an instant, Qui-Gon thinks he has lost his precious Obi-Wan once more.

But the Force keeps its promise. The boy lives.

Closer and closer the three move towards the Great Pit. Red shields slam down, locking Obi-Wan away from the danger. At some point, the Jedi Master and the Sith are separated. The Force is twisting and reeling. Qui-Gon knows his fate. He knows the future. He understand what must happen next.

He takes the opportunity to kneel on the ground and offer up one last Meditation, one last communion with the Force before he joins it forever. He takes in the presence of his poor, agitated padawan and pushes one last wave of comfort across their bond.

_I love you, Obi-Wan. More than you will ever know._

The Shields open up. The Sith charges. Qui-Gon blocks the strike. Back and forth they go. It is only a matter of time before Qui-Gon misses a blow.

The strike comes all at once, piercing his abdomen. He gasps, mouth open and gaping like a skewered fish.

_“NOOO!”_

Oh, Obi-Wan...

Oh, his poor padawan...

The grief and rage that pours into the Force is almost thick enough to snuff out the light. For a moment, Qui-Gon is almost afraid Obi-Wan is falling, just like Xanatos.

Obi-Wan charges. The Sith knocks him right over into the great, terrible pit. Qui-Gon’s eyes widen in horror and he flails, trying to force himself up right.

No. No. No. No! No! _No!_

It isn’t meant to happen like this!

Qui-Gon reaches out across the bond, and pours all of his strength into Obi-Wan. Every last drop.

This is what seals his fate.

Obi-Wan practically erupts from the yawning maw of the Reactor Shaft, seizing Qui-Gon’s lightsaber with the Force and cutting the Sith in half.

Suddenly there is silence. Qui-Gon feels arms wrapped around him and blinks. Above him are the misty eyes of his padawan, who looks as if the world has just ended.

“Promise me... you will train the boy...” Qui-Gon chokes out and Obi-Wan chokes too, a single tear snaking down his cheek.

“I promise... I promise...” Obi-Wan whispers.

No, no, not like this. This cannot be how it ends. There must be something else. There _has_ to be something else.

He reaches up a wipes the tear from Obi-Wan’s cheek.

“I am so... proud of you... _padawan-mine,”_ he whispered, hardly above a breath. Then the hand falls away from Obi-Wan’s face.

He feels himself rising, up and up and up. He sees all things below him. He watches as Obi-Wan grows smaller and smaller, watches as the planet grows distant.

He is getting farther and farther away from Naboo.

And Obi-Wan. He is getting farther and farther away from Obi-Wan, too.

_Oh, Obi-Wan..._

He feels their beloved training bond slip between his fingers and fall away like sand. There is no pain. Nothing shatters. It merely dissolves, so soft and quiet he wonders if Obi-Wan has even noticed it yet.

The last thing he hears is the grief stricken voice of his padawan.

“Master? M-Master! ... _Master!!”_


End file.
